“My parents moved to the area around 1950 also. They bought the home south of the Jones property and Father opened his business in Hoopeston. Within a few years, he developed many contacts in the local financial community and so became aware of the Joneses’ strained finances. In the early seventies, Father approached Armstrong about buying the woods property, including the Big House. My father’s contacts told him this was the only way the farm could survive. One last large cash infusion would save it, as well as relieve the burden of taxes and maintenance on the Big House. My parents had decided years before that they wanted the property.” Willow paused and took a long drink of water.
“How did Armstrong react?” Noah asked.
“My father would never tell Mother and I what was said. Father was a gentle man who didn’t swear or show anger, but anytime he talked about the conversation, his face grew red. I presume Armstrong told my father where to put his offer. Armstrong went so far as to accuse Father of turning the banks against him so he would have to sell.
“One surprising thing about the meeting was that Chester Jones attended, but not his father Anthony. Chester and his grandfather were very close. Chester became involved in running the business end of the farm when he was in his early twenties. Anthony was different from his father and son and stuck with farming itself. You could often see him out working in the fields, which was beneath Armstrong and Chester. Many people who didn’t know better thought Chester was Armstrong’s son, not his grandson, they were so much alike. They hunted together, gambled together and drank together. Rumor was they womanized together, but who knows?
“After my parents’ offer to buy, things became strained between our families. We found Chester and Armstrong on our property hunting more than once. Armstrong spread rumors about my dad, that he cheated his customers.
“The situation remained unchanged until 1975. The Joneses were about to go under. As a last ditch effort, Armstrong and Chester went off on a three-week overseas trip to find new business for the farm. They had some crazy idea about a South American crop that would save them from ruin.
“The day after Armstrong and Chester left, Clarisse Jones, Armstrong’s wife, appeared at our front door. My mother was quite surprised but invited Clarisse in when she asked to talk.
“Mother was astounded by what Clarisse said. She wanted to sell the woods property. She called Armstrong an old fool who should be in a retirement home, and she told Mother he had signed the deed over to her years before to protect it from foreclosure if the farm failed. Clarisse was sole owner with full legal authority to dispose of it. Mother took her to Father’s office, and they struck a deal. Clarisse called her attorney and paperwork was started that day.
“Mother asked Clarisse what would happen when Armstrong returned. I remember her peculiar answer clearly. She said ‘I suppose he’ll put a hex on me or something.’ She laughed, but the look in her eyes was scary.
“Clarisse was anxious to deal. The papers were signed within ten days and she moved everyone out and turned over the keys three days before Armstrong returned. Father moved us in the next day.”
“What did Anthony and his wife think of all this?” Noah asked.
“They didn’t seem to care. We had the feeling they never liked the old house anyway. The family history was dark and they wanted no part of it. Father thought the only reason they kept living there was because Armstrong insisted on having Chester nearby.
“When Armstrong and Chester returned to find the property sold and themselves moved into a house on the north side of Hoopeston, things were tense. Armstrong barged into my father’s business and nearly assaulted him. Father told us he had never seen anyone as livid with hatred. The office help restrained Armstrong until the police came. My parents swore out a restraining order, but it didn’t mean much to Armstrong. We caught him on the property several times, trying to break into the house or the shed. What he wanted we could never figure out, but something dear to him was in the house. Father offered to let him come in and see for himself that there was nothing of the Joneses’ left, but Armstrong would clam up and stalk off.
Willow stopped and grinned. “He could never figure out how we caught him every time. It’s easy when you have a built-in burglar alarm, and we seldom left the house unattended.
“Eventually things settled down, and we didn’t see Armstrong for a long time. That summer, early July 1975, I left for Kentucky to visit Rowan.” Willow’s expression turned somber. Sadness crept into the room like a vapor slipping under the door.
“I had been at Rowan’s just a few days when a sheriff’s deputy came to her door. She lived in the country without a phone and no one at Father’s business remembered her last name, so it took days to find me.” Willow paused and sighed. “You said you read the newspaper articles so you know what I know. It was the worst time of my life.”
“Did you really think they might have disappeared?”
“No. I knew they were dead as soon as the deputy came. Three days before, late in the night, I had awakened with a start. I had a clear image, call it a vision if you will, of climbing stairs and searching about in a dark room for something I desperately needed but couldn’t find. Not a dream; I was awake.” Torment clouded her face and darkened Noah’s heart. Tears welled up. Her voice was slow, halting.
“Everything went black for a few moments, and then … I felt the most terrifying pain in my chest … like a knife,” she ended in a whisper. Tears rolled down her face and her hand clutched at her chest.
Grief and terror staggered Noah. He moved to Willow, knelt before her chair, took her hand away from her chest, and touched her cheek.
“Willow, look at me.”
Come back to me.
He gently lifted her chin until their eyes met. Her breathing slowed, and she reached for a tissue. Noah returned to his chair.
“Sorry,” she said. “I’ve not thought about that night for a long time.”
“It’s okay.”
“When the deputy came and said they’d gone missing, I knew they were dead. I hoped for a long time we would find their bodies and maybe discover what had happened or who killed them. Of course, I wanted to find them first, before the sheriff’s men, so I could deal with Mother’s wings. I would have preferred to have done all the searching myself, but the sheriff was already involved when I returned. I’m sure they were murdered, Noah. I know it in my heart.” She paused. “I hope you don’t think I’m some nut case woman, but I believe they are still here. I mean at the property. You can call it their spirits, their ghosts, whatever, but I can feel them, especially around the Big House.”
“I believe you. I don’t think you’re crazy at all. Too much evidence supports the stuff you’re talking about for me not to believe it. Ever since I was a child, I’ve been able to sense energies and, I think, spirits. When I was twelve, I visited an aunt in New Mexico. I stood before a five hundred year old Indian ruin, overwhelmed by the presence of spirits. Since I’ve become ‘enlightened’ I’ve seen some strange stuff.” He paused and grinned. “I once saw a fairy flying in the woods.”
Willow laughed. “Who would believe such a thing?”
“Go on with your story,” Noah said.
“For about the first three weeks after their disappearance, I cruised on autopilot, doing the stuff you have to do. Rowan came and stayed for a few days. The deputies came and went. After a while, the search ended, Rowan went home, and I was alone. It was awful. What should I do with that huge house and all the land?
“Our attorney, Bill Anders, came to my rescue. He and my father were good friends, and steered business each other’s way on many occasions. One day he came to see me and advised me to take my time deciding what to do. All my parents’ money was in joint ownership with me, so finances weren’t a problem. He urged me not to be hasty. It was Bill who suggested I renovate the cottage and move out of the house right away, and I agreed. The best thing he did for me, though, was recommending Louie Miller for a
handyman.
“Louie stepped right in and took over when I was in a daze. He helped me get the cottage livable first, then he said we needed to secure the Big House and the worker’s quarters. We turned the latter into a storage shed for tools and a small tractor. He and I built all the shutters you see on the house ourselves and installed them. It was difficult getting him to let me help him sometimes, and hard not revealing my strength. The gate on the cottage was his idea, and he’s the one who brought me the first Shadow when he was just a pup. We’re on our fourth Shadow now.” She paused and smiled. “Louie’s a special guy. He’s never said a word, but it has to make him wonder when I haven’t changed in thirty years while he’s grown to be an old man.”
Aha! An opening for question number thirty-nine.
“Since we’re on the subject,” Noah interjected, “how old are you? You never answered yesterday.” He sensed a quick succession of emotions from Willow, but then she blocked them, this time only causing a strong tingle in his arms and shoulders. Magic wasn’t needed to read the irritation in her face, however.
“I told you yesterday, it’s no concern of yours.”
Little snot.
“Calm down, Princess,” Noah answered. “I’m just curious, trying to understand this fairy thing.” She didn’t respond other than to frown more. “Go on. You were talking about Louie.”
Willow waited a moment and then continued. “I don’t have a phone, so when I need Louie’s help I email the Anders and they call him. I don’t need to call though. He comes out about once a week to check on me, to see if I need anything.
“During this working phase, we didn’t see or hear anything of Armstrong. That makes me feel all the more sure he killed my parents. I asked the deputies to question him and they did, but he had a strong alibi—from Chester, of course.
“After a few months, in the early winter, I was out one night with Shadow and felt someone’s presence. I ran to the Big House and didn’t see anyone, but then I heard loud cursing from the shed. I ran there and found Armstrong trying all the shutters. He was pissed, to say the least.
“‘What do you think you’re doing?’ I yelled. He jumped and looked as if he had seen a ghost. I didn’t have a flashlight since fairies have excellent night vision, so I really spooked him. ‘Where did you come from?’ he said. Before I could say anything, he rushed toward me, screaming. ‘What’s wrong with you people? Why did you take my house?’ He raged at me. I kept my distance, and made Shadow bark and growl. That got his attention and he calmed down some.
“‘You’re violating the restraining order,’ I told him, ‘and I’m going to call the sheriff if you don’t leave right now. I may call him anyway. He might be interested to know you were here.’ When I said that, he decided to try the civil approach.
“‘I’m sorry, my dear,’ he said. ‘You startled me in the dark. I just wanted to see the place again for old times’ sake. I left in a hurry, you know. Perhaps I could take time someday and walk through the old house once?’
“‘Absolutely not,’ I said. ‘Now get off my property before I turn the dog loose.’ Shadow assisted with a good growl. Armstrong couldn’t see his tail wagging in the dark. He grumbled under his breath and turned away, walking south. I followed him far enough to convince myself he was leaving and to let him know I was watching.
“I caught him two other times snooping, but always before he could figure a way into the house or shed. I never left the property at night. I would only leave for short times during the day.
“One night the following January the problem with Armstrong resolved itself. Do you remember the string of bad winters in the seventies? That was one of those years and heavy snow was on the ground, fifteen inches or so. One night I had been cooped up too long, so late, around midnight, I let Shadow out to play and went for a buzz.” She smiled at the unspoken question on Noah’s face. “That’s fairyspeak for flying. It was brutally cold, about ten degrees, and the sky was clear with a big full moon, one of those stunning Illinois winter nights. I flew around the property several times at treetop level, and then stopped where our house had been and walked for a few minutes. I left there, flew in a big circle across the surrounding fields, and turned toward the Big House. As soon as I came close, I could sense someone’s presence. I shifted over to what I like to call stealth mode. Like an Apache helicopter. I’ll have to demonstrate sometime. First, you wink and then you slow your wing frequency way down and increase your cupping ratio. It’s very effective at night.” Noah nodded in appreciation.
“I circled the house and spotted the intruder. A ladder leaned against the front porch roof and someone was lying in the snow at the bottom. A big slice of snow had slid off the steel roof. I landed and of course, it was Armstrong. The old fool had tried to get in a second floor window. He was alive, but the way he gasped and the way he was bent, I could see he’d broken his neck and wouldn’t live long. He heard me and opened his eyes. I reappeared, wings and all, and I bet he thought I was an angel. Just to help the effect … and to be mean … I turned on a little glow. I was breathing hard from flying so my breath looked like smoke.
“‘Armstrong, what have you done?’ I asked. He knew he was dying and seeing me sent him into complete terror.
“‘It’s me, Willow Brown,’ I said. That calmed him, though he was still foggy. ‘Did you kill my parents?’ I demanded.
“‘No one will ever know,’ he gasped out.
“‘You’re dying Armstrong, you can tell me now,’ I said. He didn’t answer.
“‘Fool!’ I said. ‘What was of such great importance to you in the house?’
He struggled to continue speaking, choking out the words.
“‘No one will ever know’ he said and grinned the most evil smile I’ve ever seen. It vanished into a look of agony and he stopped breathing.
“I flew to the cottage and walked back to Armstrong so my tracks would look as if I found him while I was walking. Then I ran to the county road and went to the house down the road to get help. It took over an hour for the deputies and the paramedics to get to the house with all the snow. They traipsed around the property all night, following both our tracks. They satisfied themselves it was an accident. So ended the issues with Armstrong.
“For the last thirty years I’ve lived quietly on the property. I don’t do much. I read. I do some Internet consulting. Louie and I maintain the Big House, keep it painted, roofed, and cleaned inside and out. Every few weeks in the winter, we light the boiler for a day or so. We air it out in the summer. I care for the animals. I make sure they have enough to eat. And I love to garden. I grow almost all my own food over the summer. I have three gardens. One is for my food, a second for the mammals and birds, and a third where I send all the bugs. They have to eat, too.”
Noah raised his eyebrows. “Is this communication with animals you do a fairy thing or a Willow thing? It’s amazing.”
“It’s a fairy thing. We do it with mental pictures. Most animals don’t understand words, but they all know pictures. We use our hands to direct the images. Some fairies are better at it. I’m good, but my friend Rowan is a real pro. She can read images from animals as well, with one she’s known for a time.”
“Wow. Where did you say Rowan lives? Kentucky?”
“Yes. She’s lived there most of her life.”
“How do you stay in touch with no phones? Do you like, send an owl or something?”
“Actually, these days we rely on the magic of email,” Willow said with a grin. “Hoopeston has a good wireless Internet system so I don’t need a cable. We fairies have a sophisticated network for communications. All secure and encrypted. More reliable than owls and much less mess. We call it FairyNet. It’s revolutionized being a fairy. Community has come to the most reclusive of our people.”
“Really? You’re not pulling my leg?” Noah asked.
“Not this time. That’s where I do my consulting. I’m on the FairyNet security team. We’re off the subject
again.”
“Sorry. You were talking about living on the property the last thirty years. Sounds lonely.”
“Yes, it can be, even for someone who likes solitude.” She stopped for a moment and looked at the floor, deep in thought. “I’ve never been a sociable person, less so after we moved to Hoopeston. Since Mother and Father died, I’ve become a recluse. I’ve had trust issues for a long time.” She raised her head and looked at Noah. “Until you came along. I’ve not talked to anyone like this for many years, except Rowan.”
“I’m glad you trust me. I think your trust is from the fairy friend magic, though. I hope someday you can trust me just because I’m me. You’ve talked a lot tonight, and I appreciate you sharing all this with me, but you’ve not told me everything, have you? Something else is hanging over you. What happened to make you feel grotesque, as you put it?”
Willow shifted in her chair and avoided his gaze. He could sense confusion, fear, and irritation. She spoke, her voice almost too quiet to hear. “I’ve only ever told one person. My mother. Not even Rowan.” She raised her head and looked into Noah’s eyes. “I’ll not tell you. Not yet.”
At least you said ‘Not yet.’
“I’m tired,” Willow said. “I should be going home.” She stood up, reached for her sweatshirt, and pulled it on.
“I’ll drive you home,” Noah said.
“Thanks, but you don’t need to.”
“I know, but I want to. It would be better than worrying about you flying into a tree in this fog.”
“Okay,” she said and smiled.
“So, where does this fairy friend thing go from here?” Noah asked.
Willow shrugged. “I guess we go about our business and … be friends. We visit, we email, whatever. How long will you be around Hoopeston?”